


Love At Second Sight

by yaosuseden



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Artist Steve Rogers, Brock Rumlow is a creep, Bucky is sweet, But also adorable, Eventual Smut, M/M, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Slow Burn, Steve is snarky, Will add more tags as I go along, but we know it's him, he's not mentioned by name, love at second sight
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-12
Updated: 2017-12-12
Packaged: 2019-02-14 01:22:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12996753
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yaosuseden/pseuds/yaosuseden
Summary: Based on the prompt (which is also the title): Love at second sight. Steve gets his ass kicked in an alley. Bucky comes to his rescue. As you can imagine, Steve isn't super fond of the idea. But he let's the guy take him home anyway.





	Love At Second Sight

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic I've posted in like five years, so sorry if I'm a bit rusty! It's un-beta-ed, so if you see any typos to grammar issues, tell me, please! I hope you enjoy it! It's rated Teen for language, but the rating will go up in later chapters.

-Bucky-  
The walk back from the subway station to his apartment was Bucky’s favorite part of the day, especially during the warmer months. He took the same route every day, having figured out the fastest way home with the least number of junkies on the sidewalk asking for cash. That is critical in his neighborhood.

It was almost ten o’clock at night, he had just passed the video store that somehow still existed, when he heard a loud crash coming from the alley across the street. At first, he figured it was a cat that knocked over a trash can, so he kept walking. Then, he heard a rough voice.

“You just can’t stay down, can you? Fucking faggot.”  
There was a bang, as if someone slammed a hand on something metal, and a deep voice answered, “fuck you.”  
The voice sounded gargled, like he was talking with a mouth full of blood.  
‘Shit,’ Bucky thought to himself He crossed the street and headed for the alley. He could never ignore a gay bashing. 

Bucky walked into the alleyway to the sight of a tall, gruff-looking man in a black hoodie swinging his fist at what appeared to be a teenager. He couldn’t tell under the large jacket, not to mention the bloody face, but this guy didn’t look a day over seventeen. Bucky sped over to the pair, grabbing black hoodie’s shoulder. Without waiting for a reaction, he shoved his knee into the guys groin and decked him in the face, successfully knocking him to the ground. Bucky then grabbed the teenager by him blood-stained sleeve and pulled him out of the alley, across the street and past two more blocks toward the free clinic next to his building when the guy stopped, refusing to go any further.

“I’m not going to the clinic. I’m fine,” he said, his voice still sounding heavy from the blood, but surprisingly deep for a guy his size.  
“Come on, kid. You gotta get that nose checked out,” Bucky answered, putting on his most sympathetic face.  
The guy visibly bristled at Bucky’s words. He could almost see his hairs stand up, like an angered street cat.  
“Hey, I’m not a fucking kid. I’m twenty-five, so you can just piss off and let me go home.”  
“Sorry, man. Can’t really see much face under all the blood,” Bucky said a bit guiltily, “but it was dumb to assume. Still, you really should have someone look at you, make sure you didn’t break anything.”  
“It’s not broken. I would be able to tell,” the guy answered. Bucky had a feeling that he knew from personal experience what a broken nose felt like. He heaved a loud sigh.  
“Then at least come up to my apartment, get cleaned up. I’m right up here, and you can’t walk home like that now. And what if that asshole homophobe finds you again? He could do some real damage. If I wouldn’t have intervened, who kno—”  
“If I agree to come up with you, will you stop ranting at me?”  
“Absolutely.”  
“Fine.”

Bucky led the guy into his building. As they walked up the stairs to his third-floor apartment, Bucky realized that they didn’t even know each other’s names.  
“So, what’s your name?” Bucky asked, hopefully coming off as casual.  
“Steve,” the kid, and no matter how old he was, Bucky still saw him as a kid, answered gruffly.  
“Bucky,” he said cheerfully.  
“What the hell is a Bucky?” Steve asked, quite rudely.  
“It’s a nick-name. My full name is James Buchanan Barnes.”  
Steve snorted. “Are you serious? Your parents named you after a president?”  
“And not a very memorable one at that. I’m just glad they decided against Abraham Lincoln Barnes. Lincy just doesn’t have the same ring to it.”  
Steve started to laugh, but winced when it stretched out his bruised nose.  
They reached Bucky’s door. He took his key out of his back pocket and unlocked the door. He let Steve step in before closing, locking, and bolting his door.  
“Isn’t that a bit excessive? You’ll have to unlock in a little while anyway” Steve pointed out.  
“You never know who could be out there,” Bucky answered, not commenting on the second part. There was no way this kid could walk home on his own looking the way he did.  
“Says the guy who took a complete stranger into his apartment without even knowing his name.”  
“If this was all just an elaborate scheme to steal my TV, I’m honestly impressed.”  
Steve smiled, but again winced at the pain blooming from his nose.  
“Stop that,” he grumbled.  
“Stop what?” Bucky asked, a small smirk on his face.  
“Stop making me smile, asshole, it hurts!”   
“Good, then maybe next time you won’t let a giant prick punch you repeatedly in the face. Now come on, lets clean you up a bit.”  
Bucky headed towards the kitchen, where he kept his first aid kit.  
“Go sit on my bed. It’s down the hall, second door to the left. I’ll get some stuff and we’ll help you get cleaned up.”   
“I can clean myself up, I’m an adult,” Steve muttered.  
“Yeah, well, that’s too bad. I’m gonna help you clean up and get you a new set of clothes. You can sleep on the couch tonight. There’s no reason for you to walk home this late.”  
“Jesus, you have no sense of self-preservation, do you?” Steve muttered, “I could be a murderer, you know!”  
“Yeah, I’ve seen your fighting skills. Pretty sure I can handle it.”

 

-Steve-  
Steve narrowed his eyes, trying to think of an insult to hurl back, but then decided against it. Bucky was right. And besides, he was being nice. He helped him out of (another) broken bone, and even offered him a place to stay for the night. As much as Steve tried to play it tough, he would’ve had a lot of trouble getting home on his own after that fight. He probably wouldn’t have even been conscious by the end, if it weren’t for Bucky. He might as well be nice to the guy.

Steve walked down the hall and into what must be Bucky’s bedroom. It was spacious, with crème colored wall and tasteful furniture. He wondered, not for the first time, how Bucky could afford to live in this apartment on his own. He didn’t look much older than Steve was. He decided that he would ask Bucky what he does for a living. For a second, Steve entertained the idea that Bucky’s job could be less than savory. New York City has its fair share of gangs and mobs. And he knows the guy can throw a punch. But then he thought about how kind, how trusting the guy had been and he knew that Bucky was just a momma’s boy from Brooklyn who wrestled in high school or something.

He sat down on Bucky’s bed, the sheets soft under his hands, and realized just how tired he was. It had been a long day, first with his shift at the gallery, then studio time until nine, not to mention getting into it with that asshat on his way home.

‘I’ll just lie down for a second,’ Steve thought to himself, ‘just until he brings me the first aid kit’.

 

-Bucky-  
“Hey, Steve, I don’t have any clothes that’ll fit you, but I can give you some sweats if you want to take—”  
Bucky walked into the room only to see Steve laying back on the bed, legs still dangling over the edge. Bucky sighed.  
‘This kid must’ve had quite a day’, he thought, ‘no use moving him now.’

Bucky decided to tuck the kid properly into his bed, careful not to wake him up and get yelled at again about how he wasn’t a fucking kid. He put the first aid kit on the bedside table, along with a bottle of water, a towel and some sweats. He said farewell to his now-bloodstained sheets, turned off the light and left the room, leaving the door slightly ajar so that he would hear if Steve had any issues during the night. He grabbed a blanket and pillow from the linen closet across the hall from the bathroom and headed to the living room. Apparently, he would be spending the night on his (surprisingly comfortable— thank God) sofa.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed the first chapter!  
> I plan on adding adding a lot more to this fic, so if you like it, stick around!  
> There will be slash at some point, so sorry if that's not your thing!


End file.
